


You And No Other/Vous Et Nul Autre

by LeftWingLibrarian



Series: You And No Other [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Canada Day, Canon Compliant, Enthusiastic Consent, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Food Porn, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Madison - Freeform, Magical Realism, Making Love, Making Out, Maple Syrup Kink, Rimming, Shower Sex, The Most Sensual Of All The Salted Cured Meats, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, good luck charms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftWingLibrarian/pseuds/LeftWingLibrarian
Summary: Bitty's baking up a storm to surprise Jack with a party for Canada Day. But when a family good luck charm falls into the mix, all of Bitty's love, longing and lust for his fiancé get channeled into the food. It makes for an awkward evening for poor Jack, who is having food-induced sensual flashbacks with every bite! And he's not alone ...aka "Bitty bakes while horny and it makes everyone else horny."





	1. Something Old

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom, and second fic ever, so I'd love to hear your feedback! Please let me know if there is anything you like (so I can write more) or don't like! Concrits are MORE than welcome. Also please don't hesitate to let me know if I have included something offensive or triggering so I can fix it! 
> 
> This is part of a series, but you don't need to read the previous works to understand what is happening. They just all occur in the same universe.
> 
> Special thanks to [TuppingLiberty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty) and [thisiswherethefishlives](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives) for reading early drafts, and to the entire NaNoWriMo Lite group for being so supportive. And especially huge thanks to [StarMaple](http://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaple/pseuds/StarMaple), who served as beta on this fic even though she doesn't like Check, Please! She is just that kind and generous of a person and I love her dearly. 
> 
> All characters belong to the amazing Ngozi Ukazu and her incredible web comic [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693) If you haven't read it, please treat yourself and do so. I was also heavily influenced by the magical realism of Laura Esquivel's "Like Water For Chocolate" which, when I read it as a naive 20-year-old college student, seemed like it was surely the most graphically sexual thing to have ever been written. Clearly I had not yet discovered fan fiction.
> 
> Last, this is my shameless love letter to Canada. I only lived there for a few years, but it truly feels like home, and I miss it every day. Especially given the events of last week's election. 
> 
> See the end notes for links to all the recipes and music!

“GOT ME LOOKIN SO CRAZY RIGHT NOW, YOUR LOVE’S, GOT ME LOOK —”

Bitty fumbles the snooze button, putting Queen Bey back to sleep for a few more minutes. Still half asleep, he drops the phone clumsily back on the nightstand and rolls over, reaching out to spoon his boyfriend for a few more minutes before facing the day.

But instead of Jack’s warm, firm body Bitty’s hand only finds air and empty sheets.

“Must have gone for a run …” he thinks, snuggling in on himself, before he remembers. More than two weeks. Even though he and Jack have been apart for 16 days, Bitty still expects to wake up and feel his boyfriend beside him. Not boyfriend anymore though, he remembers, a wide grin breaking through his sleepy haze. His fiancé. His fiancé who he will finally get to see later today.

Bitty pulls the sheets back over his head and replays the scene of Jack in a suit, down on one knee, offering Bitty a ring in one hand and the lease — to the storefront in which Bitty is currently crying — in the other. He’d turned down Jack’s repeated offers to finance his catering company dreams with hockey money, but finally relented when Jack made the excellent point that if Bitty would do him the honor of being his husband, it would be their money. Bitty actually has to bite his pillow to muffle his squeal of glee. It’s been less than a month since Jack proposed, and they had barely a week of engaged bliss before Bitty had to jump on a plane to Georgia for a cousin’s end-of-June wedding, while Jack traipsed about the States visiting youth camps for You Can Play.

The alarm blares again, and Bitty rolls over to shut it off before stretching. The Georgia sun is already streaming through the curtains of his childhood bedroom, throwing lazy stripes across the floorboards. It’s only just after 8 a.m. on this first day of July, but the central air is already blasting in a vain attempt to make the upstairs feel less like a sauna. It’s only going to get worse once the oven gets going, Bitty knows, so he forgoes a shirt, slipping on a pair of denim shorts over his boxer briefs and pulling on some old sneakers before heading downstairs to start in on all the cooking and baking he has planned.

“Morning, Dicky!” his mother sings as he walks into the kitchen, planting a kiss on his cheek and reaching around to put her empty coffee cup in the sink.

“Your daddy’s already at school doing some paperwork, and I’m just heading into the office. Anything I can do to help for the party tonight before I go?”

“Hey, Mama,” Bitty says with a yawn, pulling out his phone to text Jack. He’s already got two unanswered texts. “No, I think I’ve got it covered. Might need some help with the last minute stuff once you get home?”

“Sure thing, honey,” Suzanne replies, gathering her purse and keys. “I’ll pick up Daddy when I’m done and then we’ll head out to get MooMaw. Oh, and Daddy is printing out the banner at school, so we’ll hang that when we get home. You’ll probably be gone to get Jack when we get back? What do you want me to start?”

“Yeah, Jack’s flight gets in at 5:17, so I’ll go to get him and hurry back here so we can start the party,” Bitty replies. Not like he’s counting every second ‘til then. “I’ll leave the appetizers in the fridge, if you want to pull those out. And maybe you could do the fruit for the salad? I’ll make the dressing before I go, but I don’t want the berries to get soggy.”

“Of course, Dicky,” she says fondly, coming over to touch Bitty’s cheek and give him one more kiss. “I know you want this to be a special day for Jack. We’re so excited to see him again.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Bitty says, returning her kiss on the cheek. “I feel so bad he always misses Canada Day, I just wanted to surprise him. Thanks for letting me host it here.”

“Well I know you two don’t plan to live here, but I want both of you to always feel at home when you come visit.” She turns to go but stops, her eye caught by the bridal bouquet hanging upside down in the window over the sink. “Oh Dicky, do you mind throwing those out? I was going to try to dry them and give them back to Callie, but it’s just been too muggy and they’ve started to mold.”

“Aw, too bad. I was thinking that was my lucky bouquet after I caught it at the wedding,” Bitty jokes. “Oh well, even if we have to throw it out, I’m still the next one getting married.”

Bitty grabs kitchen shears and cuts the string the flowers have been hanging on. He’s about to toss them in the trash when a glint of gold catches his eye. He looks more closely and finds a small gold ring tied to the blue ribbon holding the flowers together. He unties the ribbon and pulls the ring off, turning it to the light as he tosses the flowers in the trash. There’s an inscription around the outside, along with carvings of tiny flowers and leaves.

“Vous et nul autre,” Bitty reads under his breath, turning the ring slowly. It’s French, he’s pretty sure, but the grammar isn’t quite right. “Hey Mama,” he says to a harried Suzanne, who is rummaging through her handbag trying to find her keys. “Do you know what this is?”  
Suzanne looks up, slightly annoyed, but her expression immediately changes to one of excitement. “Oh Dicky honey! Wherever did you find that? Your MooMaw will be so happy.”

“It was tied in with the ribbon on the bouquet. What is it?”

“It’s a posie ring. It’s been in your daddy’s family for generations, MooMaw says since the Revolutionary War, though I don’t know if that’s true or if it is something she just made up to impress the ladies at the DAR. Anyway, it’s supposed to be a good luck charm, and MooMaw lends it to all the brides in the family on their wedding day. I wore it when I married your daddy as my “something old.” MooMaw has been fretting because Callie forgot to return it after the reception, and now she’s on her honeymoon and no one can reach her.”

“But why was it tied to the bouquet instead of on her finger?”

“Well honey, you didn’t hear it from me, but that ring is made for someone more delicate boned than your cousin Callie. Will you put it somewhere safe so we can give it back to MooMaw tonight? She only lets folks wear it on their wedding day. I’d imagine she’ll be bringing it to your wedding when the time comes!”

Suzanne presses a quick kiss to Bitty’s cheek as she heads out the door. He goes to put the ring upstairs, but pauses for a moment. After all, he’s the next one to get married, he might as well try it on to see if it fits or if he’ll need to figure out a workaround like Callie did. It does look fairly small, but Bitty’s hands have always been on the smaller side. He slips it onto the pinky finger of his right hand. It slides on easily, accompanied by a strange tingle of warmth that is not unpleasant. Bitty holds his hand up, admiring the ring in the light streaming in from the window. He’s about to take it off and put it upstairs on his Mama’s bureau when his phone vibrates again with a notification. Bitty turns his attention to his neglected phone, smiling to himself as he opens Jack’s messages, the ring forgotten on his finger.


	2. Prep Work

_“Good morning, mon coeur! Only 10 hours and 37 minutes!_ _”_

_“Any big plans for today? You should take it easy, you looked tired last night.”_

For once, Bitty is glad he and Jack are just texting instead of using FaceTime or Skype. His poker face is terrible, and he’s been planning this Canada Day party for weeks and wants to keep it a secret until the last possible moment. He toys with the idea of texting “Happy Canada Day” simply because the maple leaf emoji is so cute, but decides against it. Better if Jack thinks he’s forgotten.

 _“_ Morning lover! Can’t wait to see you. Miss you something crazy.”

“No big plans for today, though if I looked tired last night it was YOUR fault, Mr. Zimmermann! Want you to make me even MORE exhausted tonight once I can get my hands on you.”

 _“Ohhhh, Bits ….”_ Bitty can hear Jack’s groan of sexual frustration. Probably because he’s feeling exactly the same.

_“I just want you in my arms. And in my bed. And in my life forever. I miss you so much. I can’t wait to see you.”_

“Me, too, sweetheart. Skype sex is fun, but I miss having you HERE”

_“Soon, mon coeur! Only 8 hours and 42 minutes now. Hopefully I can restrain myself from ravaging you until we get to the car.”_

“Why, Mr. Zimmermann!!!! I didn’t know you cared!!!"

_“I do Bits. So much. I can’t wait to see you. I love you. <3” _

“Love you, too. Drive safe. Call or text me before you board so I can be sure to meet you in time.”

“ _Will do._ _”_

Jack’s texting game has certainly improved, Bitty thinks. Actually, Jack’s ability to discuss emotions at all has blossomed over the last couple of years, at least with Bitty, if not with everyone else. They have certainly come a long way from, “Eat more protein,” Bitty reflects as he pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs a yogurt from the fridge. His hockey days may be over now that he’s graduated, but Jack’s original advice is still solid. He eats quickly while he runs over the menu and associated tasks, which will likely take most of the day. First off —  the Montreal Smoked Meat needs six hours out in the smoker, and the buns need to get into the oven.

He plops his phone into the kitchen docking station and cues up his Canada Day playlist. Drake’s “Hotline Bling” starts to play and Bitty starts to shake his hips as he pulls the briskets out of the fridge and starts preheating the oven before rinsing the meat in the sink. He takes it outside and fires up the smoker and comes back inside just as the oven beeps to let him know it is hot enough. He uncovers the first tray of buns and pops them in, then turns to survey the kitchen and determine his next task, pulling one of his mama’s old aprons on over his shorts. It actually may have been MooMaw’s, he realizes, it’s almost like a dress with deep pockets on both sides. He may need to take it back to Providence, those pockets are perfect for his phone.

“Let’s see, the pasta salad should marinate for a few hours, so I’ll do that next. And then I can slice the cheese and sausage and make the filling for the tourtière …”

Bitty pauses for a moment, doubting his decision to make the Québecois Christmas meat pies for Canada Day. But they are so quintessentially _Quebec_ , and Jack loves them, so he decides to go ahead. After all, this whole party is more to celebrate his favorite Canadian than his soon-to-be second homeland. Jack’s been such a sweetheart about spending the 4th of July with Bitty’s family every year since their first summer as a couple, and while they’ve managed to celebrate July 1 on their own, Jack hasn’t had a chance to celebrate in a big way for years. They’ve tried to create a fair holiday schedule, but it’s tough when the NHL season opens the same week as Canadian Thanksgiving and goes through all the major holidays. They’ve managed to spend Christmas in the winter wonderland of Montreal every year since their first, and for the two Thanksgivings their parents either join them on the road or they celebrate as a couple — and a few teammates — in Providence or Samwell. So the 4th of July has become the big Bittle family tradition and the one time of year Bitty is guaranteed to come home for a bit. And this year, it’s a chance to really welcome Jack as a permanent member of the Bittle clan.

Justin Bieber has replaced Drake on Bitty’s playlist, and he brings water to a boil for the pasta and slices vegetables and mixes up the dressing while trying to change the words to “Boyfriend” to fit Jack. But “fiancé” has too many syllables.

Next he slices up a giant platter of cheeses, pepperoni and sausage before sliding it in the fridge. Mama can pull it out to have something ready when the family starts to arrive. He pulls out a huge skillet for the tourtière filling, dumping in plenty of spices. He can julienne the potatoes for the poutine now and keep them in an ice bath until they are ready to fry.

The hours tick by, and Bitty is so busy tasting everything as he goes that he doesn’t notice he’s missed lunch. Each step of each dish seems to summon a happy memory of Jack, of the first time they ate a dish together, or cooked together, or just were … together. Snuggled on the couch watching a movie. Holding hands walking home from an evening out. In bed, cuddling, or touching, or taking off clothes, or …

Michael Bublé is interrupted by Jack’s “Bootylicious” ringtone, and Bitty rushes over, wiping his hands on the apron. It’s Jack, but he’s using FaceTime. Bitty whips off the apron and runs into the living room to answer, frantically brushing flour off his nose so Jack doesn't know he’s been baking. He flops down on the couch and hits the green button, propping the phone on the coffee table so his hands are free.

“Hey Bits! Just about to board, wanted to let you know the flight is on time,” Jack is walking down the concourse at Logan and isn’t even really looking at Bitty.

“That’s great, sweetheart. I can’t wait to hold you again. I’ve been so lonesome without you,” Bitty replies, feeling a slight tightening in his chest as he gazes longingly at Jack. Only a few more hours.

Jack reaches the gate and slows his walk, finally turning his gaze to his phone.

“What’ve you been up to today? Just have a nap?” Jack asks, his voice deepening as he takes in Bitty’s surroundings and his lack of clothing. Damn, Bitty should have found a shirt.

“Oh, uh, yeah, your call just woke me up,” Bitty blushes, hoping Jack won’t know he’s lying. “Was just taking a nap here on the sofa.”

Jack’s wolfish gaze seems to mistake the blush for something else entirely, and even over FaceTime Bitty can see his pupils growing larger. Bitty watches those blown blue eyes take in his blush, before dipping down to his nipples and the soft golden down on his chest.

“Mmm, Bits,” Jack groans, his voice dropping low so as not to draw attention from the other passengers. “You look so good, I can’t wait til I can kiss every inch of that gorgeous, glowing skin. And I mean _every_ inch.”

“Jack … Oh Jack, I … just … come. Come soon,” Bitty manages to gasp out. He’s fully hard and he can feel his entire body flushing just from Jack’s voice and his devouring look. He realizes his right hand is cramping from grasping the phone so tightly, and his left has drifted up his chest to ghost over a nipple.

“Speechless, Bittle? That’s something I never thought I’d see.” Jack’s face morphs into a — decidedly still feral — grin. “Only about 3 more hours, and then I’ll be holding you again.”

“Love you, Jack. So much. I’ll be there.”

“I know Bits. Love you, too.”

Jack blows a kiss to the screen and ends the call, and Bitty collapses back onto the sofa, breathing hard. Good Lord, this man will be the death of him. Bitty’s not sure what is so different about this separation, but there is definitely something _more_ this time. They’ve been apart countless times before, first while Bitty finished up at Samwell and after that when Jack was out on roadies with the Falconers. But it’s their first separation since their engagement, and while Bitty never thought a ring and the prospect of a piece of paper would change what he has with Jack, it has. And while wedding ideas and talk of pie shop plans have made the time fly, it has also made him ache with loneliness for Jack in a bone-deep way he hasn’t experienced since before they became a couple. But he’ll be here in just a few hours …

A few more hours! Bitty still has a ton to do. He hops back up and runs to the outdoor fridge to grab the pastry he made last night. He cranks the oven back on and fills the tourtière shells, sliding them in in batches. He grabs a saucepan and a large bowl, mixing up the Maple Syrup Pie filling in one and Bird’s custard for Nanaimo bars in the other (they’re from British Columbia, not Quebec, but Jack loves them.)

“And when I cook him dinner and I burn it black, he better say ‘Mmm, I like it like that,’” Bitty sings and dances. “Oh Shania, bless your heart, as if I’d ever burn anything I was cooking for Jack Zimmermann! Though there was that time with the pancakes ...” he thinks as he stirs the syrup mixture, “Nope. Not right now, Bittle. Get it together. You’ve got to get these in the oven and get to the airport.”

Bitty goes into baker mode, swapping pies out of the oven, filling shells and mixing up the coconut layer for the Nanaimo bars. Try as he might, he _can’t_ stop thinking of Jack and all the delicious, dirty things he wants to do with him once they are alone. Even Celine Dion can’t dim his hard on.

“You’re here! There’s nothing I fear! And I know that my heart will go ooooooooon,” Bitty belts. The song is not helping, it just makes him wish even more fervently that Jack was here.

He’s all set to put the last batch of pies in the oven, so he cleans up and runs outside to dump ice into the cooler full of beer and pop. Hoping to distract himself he runs his freezing hands down his chest, but that only makes his nipples hard. He’s absolutely _aching_ now, and he considers jerking one off in the shower before he goes to get Jack. But it’s been two long weeks of his own hands, and he is absolutely craving his fiance’s touch. So he pops the last batch of pies in the oven and decides to just prep himself so they can get down to business quicker once the party is over.

He hops in the lukewarm shower and washes off the flour and sugar dust of baking and shaves, then with quick and efficient strokes works himself open, all the while keeping an eye on the kitchen timer he has brought along and set on the sink. Having a time limit helps — he can’t enjoy himself too much — and after toweling off he puts a heavy dollop of lube on his favorite plug and slides it in, groaning. Only two minutes left though, so he throws on briefs, a clean pair of red shorts that are a favorite of Jack’s, the white Hudson’s Bay Canada shirt from Ransom’s “Canada-Day-in-a-box” and slides back into his runners. He throws on a chambray button up to cover the giant red maple leaf on his chest, grabs a bit of pomade and runs his fingers through his hair and gets downstairs just as the timer goes off. He pulls the last of the pies from the oven, runs outside to grab the briskets from the smoker and pops them in the oven with water to steam. He does a quick check around the kitchen to assure that everything is ready, grabs the keys from the hook by the back door and hops into the truck, trying not to break the speed limit in his rush to get his man.


	3. Vous Et Nul Autre

Jack knows life moves just a little bit slower in the South, but damn if this isn’t the absolute slowest he’s  _ ever _ seen a plane unload. He’s regretting changing his first class ticket (that extra space and fewer people always help with his anxiety) for a seat in coach, but since it means he’ll get to Bitty one day sooner, it’s worth it. Sure, he’s missing a Canada Day cookout with some of his fellow Falconers, but he’ll just hum “O Canada” to himself while watching the fireworks with Bitty on the 4th. That is, if he isn’t too busy doing other things with Bitty. Jack knows he’s in the minority on this one, but he finds the 4th of July to be a supremely romantic holiday.

Things are finally moving and Jack has his backpack and carry on in “ready” position, tight like a spring ready to explode into motion down the concourse. He says a quick thank you to the flight crew and is so eager to start running that he  _ actually bumps into someone on accident. _

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” he says over his shoulder. The man doesn’t even appear to have noticed Jack’s accidental check in all the hubbub, but it makes Jack feel better to apologize profusely as any self-respecting Canadian should. As Bitty likes to tease, his  _ Maman _ raised him right.

He finally makes it out to the baggage claim and scans the crowd, eyes desperately seeking his fiancé. 

“Jack!” He hears Bitty’s voice to the left and tries not to check anyone else with his carry on as he runs to him, surrounding the smaller man with his body and sweeping him into a crushing hug. He feels Bitty’s head tilt up, seeking a kiss and loosens one arm to come up and caress his beloved’s face and pull him in, trying to convey all the loneliness and longing of the past two weeks with tongue and teeth and lips. 

They break apart, breathing heavy, and Jack leans down to rest his forehead on Bitty’s. “Mon coeur, I missed you  _ so much _ ,” he breaths, taking in Bitty’s scent. Fresh from the shower body wash, a hint of salt from the Georgia heat and the underlying vanilla and baking powder that seem to accompany his baker everywhere.

“Jack …” Bitty is trembling a bit in his arms. “Oh God, Jack, let’s never do that again. I am coming on every business trip and roadie from now on. Official team baker, or something. I just ... it was so hard being away from you for so long.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I can certainly mention it to George,” Jack says with a smile and holds Bitty even tighter, if such a thing were possible. “I missed you, too. Come on, Bits, let’s get out of here where we can have some more privacy, eh?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, come on, the truck’s this way,” Bitty says as he slowly unfolds from Jack, sliding his hand down Jack’s arm and taking his hand. 

They walk briskly to the truck, hands laced together and bumping shoulders, enjoying the solid weight of one another. Jack can’t keep the grin from his face — and can’t stop looking at Bitty — who’s doing the same. They step outside and Jack feels a bit heady and dizzy, though he’s unsure if it’s the sweltering Georgia summer or the feel of Bitty beside him that’s making him go a bit weak in the knees. Possibly a combination of the two, he thinks, squeezing the other man’s small hand a bit tighter.

They finally make it to the truck and Jack swings his carry on up into the bed before pressing Bitty up against the side and kissing him again, sweeping in with his tongue to taste — Bitty’s been baking something, no surprise — and pulling on his fiancé’s bottom lip with his teeth. He moves down and begins to plant kisses along Bitty’s jaw, nipping just at the spot where the blond hairline ends behind his ear, the exact in the spot that always drives Bits wild, making him grind up into Jack. He continues softly kissing down Bitty’s neck, pulling aside the chambray collar so he can make out with Bitty’s delicate collar bone.

“Jack, stop,” Bitty breaths, blushing and pulling his shirt back to cover his neck. Jack immediately freezes and pulls away. “Oh sweetheart, no, that’s not what I meant,” Bitty says, putting his hands on Jack’s waist and pulling him close. “It’s just that if we don’t stop now, we  _ won’t _ stop. And I don’t want to be tabloid fodder for ravishing my hockey-star fiancé in the airport parking lot. I wanna take my sweet time with you.”

“Good point,” Jack concedes, dropping a kiss to Bitty’s hair. “Let’s get going, then.”

Bitty unlocks the truck and slides across the bench seat to position himself behind the steering wheel. Jack climbs in behind him and scooches over so their legs are gently touching. Bitty looks up at him with a smile and a lip bite as he puts the truck into reverse and Jack feels such an overwhelming wave of tenderness that he feels tears well up. It’s been a rough couple of weeks apart.

“So how was the flight?” Bitty asks, putting his right hand on Jack’s thigh, and they lapse into the comfortable daily catch-up of couples everywhere.

“What have you been baking?” Jack asks a few minutes later, and is surprised when Bitty turns bright red and fumbles to answer.

“How … Jack Laurent Zimmerman, that was supposed to be a surprise,” Bitty says, his embarrassment quickly turning into indignation. “How did you all figure it out?”

“I could taste maple when I kissed you,” Jack laughs, putting his arm around Bitty and pulling him into a brief one-sided hug. “I’m guessing your famous maple-crusted apple pie? You didn’t have to do that Bits, I know you’ve been worn out by your cousin’s wedding. You should take it easy.”

“Well  _ of course _ I had to bake you something sweetheart,” says a mollified Bitty. “It’s a new recipe, I hope you like it, I made it special for you.”

“Why don’t I call your parents and we can meet them somewhere for dinner, and then we can go home and eat your maple creation for Canada Day?” Jack says, pulling out his phone to contact his future in-laws. “Maybe that chop house we tried a while back? We can grab MooMaw too, celebrate our engagement.”

“Oh that’s right, it’s Canada Day. I should have realized when I saw your shirt!” Bitty smiles to himself as Jack looks down at his own chest. “That’s so sweet honey, but I think Mama’s already got dinner planned at the house. Maybe tomorrow or the next night?”

“Of course. I just don’t want your mum to go to any trouble for me,” Jack replies, putting his phone back and taking Bitty’s hand. “I just want to relax and spend time together.” 

“Me too, honey,” Bitty says, raising their hands and ghosting a kiss over Jack’s fingers. “So excited to have four days to do absolutely nothing with you.”

They lapse into comfortable silence, squeezing a leg or hand every now and then, looking at one another with a smile. There was a time when Jack thought Bitty was physically incapable of  _ not _ talking, which he found adorable, but he’s come to appreciate these quiet moments, too. He’s always been the strong silent type, but he knows that silence from Bitty equates to a level of comfort and trust his bubbly partner feels with few people. Jack still feels honored every time Bitty is willing to just sit in companionable quiet with him. It’s one of the things he’s missed over the last few weeks. Sitting in silence on Skype is just awkward, not comforting.

The afternoon sun is shining into the cab of the truck, casting Bitty’s skin in a warm light that makes him glow. Jack is tracing lazy circles across the back of Bitty’s outstretched right hand when he notices the sun glinting off of a ring — one he’s not seen before.

“What’s this, Bits?” he says, holding it up to read the inscription.

“Oh, I forgot I had that on! It’s just some old ring of MooMaw’s that Mama asked me to return to her. It’s supposed to be a wedding good luck charm. Callie forgot to give it back.”

“Vous et nul autre,” Jack reads aloud, turning Bitty’s hand to see the inscription. “ _ You and no other _ . That’s old French, maybe Norman? I would guess, from the outdated language, that the ring is very old.”

“MooMaw claims it’s been in the family since the Revolution. Maybe it’s the start of a fun research project for you, Mr. History Major.”

“Hmm, maybe. Could be interesting,” Jack agrees, pulling Bitty’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss into his palm before taking it in his own larger hand and lacing their fingers together. “You know it is ‘you and no other’ for me, mon coeur.”


	4. Happy Canada Day

Bitty turns into the drive eventually, and while it seems like there are a few more cars than normal in front of the Bittle house, it’s not until he is dropping out of the truck and sees the banner that Jack realizes this might not be the quiet night at home Bitty had talked about. 

“Happy Canada Day! Bonne Fête Canada!” proclaims a banner strung between the garage and the house. Jack can see people milling around and smoke rising from the grill behind. 

“Bits, what …” he turns to his fiancé, who has a bashful smile on his face. 

“Happy Canada Day, sweetheart,” Bitty says, leaning into kiss Jack, who is still stunned. “You’re always so sweet about coming down here for the Fourth, I wanted to surprise you for Canada Day. And I thought it would be nice for the extended family to get introduced to Canadian culture, since our kids will be dual citizens.”

“Bits …” Jack’s eyes are prickling again as he pulls his fiancé (his wonderful, adorable, amazing fiance who is the greatest person to ever live) into a crushing hug. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He’s still gazing adoringly at Bitty when a loud, familiar drawl makes them break apart.

“Where’s my gorgeous soon-to-be grandson-in-law?” 

“Right here MooMaw,” Jack calls back, turning from his fiancé to embrace the Bittle clan’s ancient, tiny matriarch. 

“You’ve lost weight! Is Dicky not keeping you fed?” she asks, raking over Jack with a critical eye. 

“I’ve told that boy you need to eat real food if you want to keep enough meat on your bones. I don’t know what all these trainer people think they are doing, having you eat nothing but flavorless chicken and vegetables that don’t even have any butter …”

“He’s got a  _ nutrition plan _ MooMaw, it’s his job to eat like that,” Bitty says, hugging her from the other side. “But he’s got the next few days off so we can fatten him up.”

Jack jumps a bit and gives Bitty a questioning look as a hand gives him a firm pat on the butt. From the way Bitty is trying not to laugh, Jack isn’t sure  _ who’s  _ hand it was.

“Hello Jack sweetheart! We’re so thrilled you would spend your holiday with us,” Jack hears, and turns away — still in confusion — to greet his future mother-in-law.

“Hey Suzy Q!” and Jack is pleased to see the faint blush that lights up Suzanne Bittle’s face when he uses the nickname Bad Bob bestowed upon her at Bitty’s graduation. “Thanks for putting this on. You really didn’t have to. It’s so much, especially with the wedding last week and the Fourth coming up …”

“Oh Jack honey, don’t be silly!” she exclaims, hugging him even tighter. “You are a part of this family now, so we need to make this a tradition!”

“Well we’re not gonna make anything a tradition if you stand here yammering all day,” says Coach, coming around from the back yard. He pulls Jack into the handshake-turned-back-slapping-hug favored by athletes everywhere. “Jack, son, good to have you back. What do you say you get your gear upstairs and get settled and come help me with the grill while we send these Dixie chickens back to the kitchen to finish up whatever they’ve got goin’ on?”

“Sounds great, Coach. You guys go on ahead and take care of whatever you need to, I’ll just toss my bag in the guest room and be right down to lend a hand.” 

“Um, about that, Jack …” Suzanne’s voice comes out rather small as she looks anywhere but at Jack’s face. “Well, you know I don’t hold with unmarried couples sharing beds, but well …” she turns to include Bitty, too, or at least his shoes. “We know you boys live together when you aren’t here, and you’re engaged now so it seems silly … I guess what I’m saying is go ahead and put your things in Dicky’s room. You’re adults now, we know that you two … do adult things … together ...” 

Jack looks over at Bitty, who is bright red and appears to be saying a silent prayer that a sinkhole will suddenly appear and swallow him up. He knows he’s blushing a bit too, but thanks all the Saints that his maman and papa have always talked fairly openly about sex. He knows poor Bitty’s — and Suzanne’s — sense of Southern propriety make conversations like this absolutely agonizing.

“Erm, yeah, that’s … that’s great, as long as it’s OK with you, Bits?”

“Lord, yes, of course,” Bitty says, giving Jack a playful slap on the shoulder, though his face is still burning up. “It’s fine with me, now  _ let’s stop talking about it.” _

“Glad that’s settled, then,” says Coach, turning to head back to the grill. “I was getting tired of being woken up every time one of ya’ll tried to sneak across the hall and back in the middle of the night.” He turns to throw a look over his shoulder and seems gratified to see that both Bitty and Jack are staring at him dumbstruck. “What? I’m an old man, I need my rest.” He turns to head back to the grill, while Jack and Bitty turn to walk into the house.

“Bits, do you think your mom and dad knew this whole …”

“Oh my God, Jack, I can’t even think about it,” Bitty says, turning to him with an abashed grin. “I really do wish you hadn’t explained the concept of chirping to Coach, though. He’s having way too much fun. Now you get on upstairs and be sure to come back through the kitchen on your way outside.”

“OK. See you in a minute,” he says, pulling Bitty in for one more quick kiss. It’s just a few moments, but even that seems too long when they’ve just seen one another again. 

Jack runs upstairs and considers unpacking and changing, but decides against it, since he’s only brought the one Canada shirt and he’s already in shorts. He drops the suitcase at the foot of the bed (which he can finally sleep in  _ all night _ , Dieu merci), and heads back downstairs to the bustling kitchen where three generations of Bittles are busy putting the finishing touches on enough food to feed the entire Royal Canadian Mounted Police. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, sliding up to plant a careful kiss on the neck of Bitty, who is frying up mountains of potatoes and stirring gravy for poutine. 

“Why don’t you grab a couple of beers from the fridge and take one out to Coach? And maybe carry out that bowl of chips?” Bitty says, turning to plant a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek in return. 

Jack steps over to the fridge and pulls out two Molson Canadians. 

“Bits, what???”

“I had Ransom bring them down last time he came to visit and had them hidden in the back of the pantry for weeks and smuggled them all down in my checked luggage,” smirks Bitty, looking rather proud of himself. “I know you prefer craft beers honey, but this seemed like a good bet for this crowd. They think Pabst is exotic.”

Jack can’t think of the right thing to say, but he knows Bitty understands his adoring gaze and the kiss he drops into his blond hair as Jack reaches for the giant bowl of chips. The sharp tang of vinegar hits his nostrils and he notices the chips are an orangish-red.

“Are these? Bits, how did you get All-Dressed chips down here? No wonder you took three huge suitcases, I thought it was all bakeware.”

“That was just the beer, sweetheart,” Bitty smiles. “They sell All Dressed down here now, but they aren’t on your nutrition plan so I haven’t bought any until now.”

“Am I going to walk outside and see a cabane à sucre?” he laughs. “You never stop surprising me, Bittle.”

“Thought about it,” Bitty grins in reply, giving Jack’s hockey butt a swat, “Now get out there, we’ll be ready to eat soon.”


	5. A Feast For The Senses

Jack heads out into the backyard, where Bitty’s “Jack Zimmermann’s Canadian Dad Music” playlist is floating in the background, treating everyone to the sounds of Canadian treasures like Neil Young, Leonard Cohen and The Tragically Hip. Bitty _hates_ this music, he thinks with a smile, so it shows how much he really loves Jack. He carefully navigates the backyard (and greetings with a few Bittle and Phelps relatives) to get the bowl of chips to the buffet table that’s already been set up along one side before heading over to the grill.

“So what’re you making?” he asks, handing Coach one of the beers, already slippery with condensation in the muggy heat.

“Well Suzanne got worried that some of these folks might think those smoked meat sandwiches ya’ll like are a little queer …” Jack snorts with laughter and beer nearly comes out his nose. Coach gives a wry smile, slightly abashed. “Erm, poor word choice, sorry. Anyway, she’s worried that folks’ll think what Junior made is too foreign, so she had me make some burgers as a backup.”

“Understandable,” Jack nods, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he leans a bit closer to Coach. “But I’ll let you in on a secret: we eat burgers in Canada too, eh?”

Coach chuckles and pulls something out of the pocket of his Georgia Bulldogs apron and leans closer to whisper conspiratorially. “I’ve got a little secret too. These suckers are gonna get a taste of Canada whether they like it or not.”

Jack looks down to see a little clear plastic bottle with a black lid and label. It looks a lot like the various jars of spices Bittle keeps in their kitchen, but he has to peer down to read the label before he gets the joke.

“Grill Mates Montreal Steak Seasoning,” he reads, looking questioningly up at a grinning Coach.

Their eyes meet for a moment as they try to suppress laughter, but then Coach can’t hold it in any longer and lets out a loud guffaw. Jack is snickering too, delighted that his taciturn future father-in-law has come so far from the man who was initially afraid to accept his parents invitation to Montreal because he wasn’t sure what he’d eat or how he’d talk to anyone.

Coach is wiping his eyes as he goes to give the burgers a sprinkle of seasoning and add cheese, and Jack starts scanning the backyard to see how many people he’ll have to interact with. His anxiety is much better these days, but he still gets nervous in social situations. He feels a pang of longing to have Bitty chatting idly by his side, but tells himself he’ll be here soon enough once meal prep is done.

“It’s not gonna be a huge get together,” Coach says softly, as if reading his mind. “All family and close friends, should mostly be folks you’ve met before. And Suz and I will be making the rounds with Junior, so you … you know, won’t have to feel too awkward, or anything.”

“I … thank you,” Jack manages to stutter, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the thought of the Bittle family crafting a coping strategy for him. “That’s … I really appreciate that.”

“No problem, son,” Coach says, piling the burgers on a large platter to be carried to the buffet. “Want you to feel comfortable, this is your family, too now.” Coach catches sight of something over Jack’s shoulder and puts up a hand to turn him, gesturing to a young family. “Oh, there is someone I want you to meet though, come on over here. Figured I’d try to get some more actual Canadians at this Canada Day shebang.”

Turns out one of Coach’s former running backs, Tyler, spent a few years in the CFL playing with the Eskimos. A torn ACL ended his career and brought him back to Georgia, but he and his wife Kim loved their time in the true north and are eager to talk to Jack. And, as promised, they double the number of actual Canadians at the cookout with their adorable two-year-old Genevieve, who was born while they lived in Edmonton.

Jack’s visited Alberta plenty of times to play the Oilers and the Flames, and Tyler and Kim spent their summers camping in Banff and Jasper just like Jack did when he was a kid (and where he desperately wants to get back with his camera), so they find plenty to talk about. Genevieve takes to Jack immediately and he ends up letting her climb up his legs and somersault while holding on to his hands over and over again.

They’re so caught up in conversation that Jack doesn’t notice that everyone has started eating until he feels Bitty at his side. He turns to see his fiancé beaming fondly with two heaping plates.

“I don’t want to interrupt, but I thought you boys might be gettin’ hungry,” he says, handing a plate each to Tyler and Jack. Kim has been pulled away by someone in the crowd, but little Genevieve is still clinging to Jack’s legs. “Sweetheart, you wanna come with me and get some supper? If you eat up I bet your daddy will let you have some dessert.”

The little girl nods solemnly up at Bitty and takes his hand to wander off. Tyler and Jack take a moment to marvel at the Canadiana on their plates before digging in and continuing their discussion of the new arena in downtown Edmonton.

Jack is talking so animatedly at first that he doesn’t get to any of the food Bitty has actually cooked, nibbling on chips and pepperoni. So it’s no wonder he’s a little slow to pick up on what’s going on around him.

“This fruit salad is awesome. Baby, did you try this?” Tyler turns to ask Kim, who has reappeared. “I dunno why, but it reminds me of those really great chocolate-dipped strawberries we had on our honeymoon, do you remember?”

“Yes, of course, honey, how could I forget?” she says after taking a bite from Tyler’s fork. Her voice is a little breathless, she must have gotten winded just from walking across the yard, Jack thinks. Needs to work on conditioning. But now Kim and Tyler staring intensely at one another, and Jack isn’t sure why but he suddenly feels like a third wheel.

“Erm, I’ll just …” he says awkwardly.

“Oh, dude, no, sorry, just kinda went somewhere else for a second,” Tyler says, finally breaking Kim’s gaze. He starts talking again, now about the construction mess building Rogers Place caused in downtown Edmonton. Jack’s listening and mindlessly goes to take a bite of the fruit salad.

_But he doesn’t taste the strawberry he’s expecting. Instead it’s the sweet taste of Bitty’s mouth, with the lingering hint of the strawberry shortcake they had for dessert on the night of Jack’s first 4th of July in Madison. Jack remembers that taste so well, wanting to savor every lick, bite and kiss as he and Bitty made out in the back of Coach’s old truck under the fireworks. Jack has that night labeled “First Time” in his mental filing cabinet, which he knows makes no sense. He and Bitty had kissed before — stolen kisses in the Haus after graduation, at the airport when he arrived in Georgia and around the Bittle house throughout the weekend. And they didn’t have sex until later that summer, finally completely alone in Jack’s (though he already thought of it as their) Providence apartment. But it was their first time really together as a couple without the worry of anyone else barging in. Their first time to just take their time exploring one another, figuring out that Jack loves the way his tiny boyfriend fits in Jack’s lap and is plenty flexible enough to straddle those thick hockey thighs. Or how Bitty’s breath catches when Jack kisses that particular spot where skin meets blond hair behind his right ear, or how Bittle squirms when Jack’s hands dart under his tank top to touch bare skin. Or the hot, breathy groans Bits pants into Jack’s neck when he’s grinding down into Jack’s lap, desperately seeking more friction, before a particularly loud firework startles them and breaks the spell, causing them to pull apart laughing and realize it is getting late and they need to get back so as not to raise suspicion …_

“... I mean Rogers Place has all the new tech, but they say Rexall had the fastest ice in the league, did you ever get to play there? Jack?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, sorry, what?” Jack says, snapping out of his reverie and finding Tyler looking at him questioningly.

“I was just asking if you were sad to see Rexall’s fast ice go and if you ever got to play there,” Tyler replies.

“Well, I only got to play there a couple of times, but my Uncle Wayne got Papa and me some ice time there once when I was a kid, and it seemed pretty fast …” and just like that, Jack is back in the conversation. Part of his mind lingers on the sensual memory awakened by that strawberry, but he chalks it up to being in Georgia and missing his man. Bitty even picked him up from the airport in that same old Ford, it’s no wonder his mind wandered back to the memory he most closely associates with it. He makes a mental note to offer to buy the truck if Coach ever decides to get rid of it.

He chats with Tyler a bit more and then gets dragged away to chat for a few moments by Bittle and Phelps relatives before he finds a spot to sit down and eat under the shade of the old black walnut that Bitty played in as a child. He decides he should try and eat while he has the chance, and starts to shovel in the pile of poutine on his plate. He’s eating mindlessly — in that way Bitty absolutely cannot stand, food is to be _savored_ Mr. Zimmermann — the same way he loads up on lean protein and steamed vegetables during the season. It’s not about enjoyment, it’s simply a method of ingesting the calories his body needs to do his job. So it takes him a moment to actually _taste_ anything. And when he finally does, he’s glad he’s alone.

_Because it’s not the saltiness of the cheese curds, fries and gravy that he is tasting. Instead it’s the salty-sweat of the back of Bitty’s neck as he stands letting the shower water warm up after Jack has dragged him out for a morning run, Jack circling up behind him to press open-mouthed kisses on the few inches of golden skin that rise from the top of Bitty’s tank to the line of his undercut. Jack deepens his kisses as his hands find their way under the hem of Bitty’s tank so Jack can splay his hands across the smaller man’s abs before peeling him out of his clothes and slipping out of his own so they can both step into the Providence apartment’s two-headed walk-in shower. Bitty turns around in the spray to press himself to Jack’s chest and reach up to pull Jack down into a wet, sloppy kiss while reaching down to wrap his soft hand around Jack’s hardening cock. Bitty gives a few deft strokes as Jack’s hands travel down to the shorter man’s hips, pushing him back against the tiled wall as steam rises around them. And then Jack’s mouth is leaving Bitty’s to trail down his body, stopping to nip and kiss along the way, as Jack sinks to his knees and trails more kisses along the tops of Bitty’s thighs before kissing along his cock, Jack softly opening wider to take the head and press his tongue to the slit, tasting the saltiness of pre-cum before —_

“How’s my favorite Canadian handling this heat?”

“Wha??” Jack is snapped out of his fantasy by MooMaw plopping down beside him, looking slightly deflated and waving an old palmetto fan with one hand, plate of food in the other.

“I’m sweatin’ like a sinner in church, so I can’t imagine how you must feel,” she says with a tired chuckle.

“Sweat …” Jack says in a bit of a panic, because really, can every one of Bitty’s family members read his mind today? But he pulls himself together because Bitty’s grandmother is certainly just making conversation about the weather and _not_ thinking about the same way to work up a sweat that Jack was. “Yeah, it’s rough. I feel like no matter how many times I visit, I never quite get used to it.”

“Well why don’t we sit here and relax for a spell and you can tell me what I have to look forward to this season? Here, you were plowing through that pile of poutine like a combine through cotton, so I brought you a sandwich.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Jack smiles fondly at MooMaw, who has become quite a formidable Falcs fan. He pulls one of the sandwiches off the plate on to his own, taking a moment to savor the scent of Bitty’s fresh-baked buns, as MooMaw picks up her sandwich and starts quizzing him on who is going to make up the Falconers’ second line now that they’ve traded Parks and Jurgens. At this rate she’ll be talking for quite a while, so Jack digs into the fragrant smoked meat.

_And suddenly he’s spread out on his back in his childhood bedroom in Montreal, Bitty between his legs, above him, inside him, the faint smell of smoke enveloping Jack as it pours off of Bitty, who just returned from an all-access kitchen tour of Schwartz’s deli. Jack bucks up for a kiss, tasting brine and peppercorns on Bitty’s tongue as the smaller man draws closer, winding his fingers through Jack’s hair and bracing himself on the hockey player’s broad chest as Jack’s hands reach around Bitty’s neck to deepen the kiss. Jack wraps his powerful legs around Bitty, locking his ankles to pull him even closer, deeper, more. Now his leaking cock is trapped between their stomachs and the friction starts to make heat pool in Jack’s loins as Bittle’s cock hits his prostate again and again and they are both so close and …_

“Oh!”

A gasp pulls Jack to the present to find MooMaw, flushed and stricken, her sandwich dropped to the ground. Jack leaps up to be at her side, concern furrowing his brow as he wonders if he needs to yell for Suzanne or Coach.

“It’s … I’m alright, Jack dear,” MooMaw says, patting his huge hand where it rests on her bird-like shoulder. “I just … I had a little moment where I was romping around in the past. Thought I was back on a camping trip with my husband when we were newlyweds. My, that sandwich was filling. I’m all tuckered out, I think I’ll go have a little lie-down in the living room. You let Suzanne know if she needs me.”

She declines Jack’s offer of help into the house, but he keeps an eye on her to make sure she arrives safely as he drops down to pick up her fallen food. MooMaw said she was full, but the sandwich has only one bite taken from it, and he’s just wondering if he should go find Bitty to tell him he’s concerned about his grandmother, but when he stands and turns to walk toward the kitchen, his fiance is standing right beside him, hands behind his back, a smirk on his face and a stray blond lock falling over his forehead. It’s so adorable Jack can’t resist leaning in to brush the hair back, hand trailing down to Bitty’s jaw to tip his face up for a kiss. Jack’s tempted to linger, but he knows Bits feels uncomfortable with PDA in front of such a big audience.

“Missed you,” Jack breathes, breaking off but still crowding Bitty’s space.

“Mmm, missed you too,” Bitty says, surprising Jack to reach up and kiss him again. It’s chaste, but wet, with the promise of more to come, and Jack can feel it about to shift into something more when Bitty loses his balance and Jack has to steady him.

“What have you got?” Jack says, angling around Bitty, trying to peek.

“I come bearing baked goods,” Bitty says with a coy smile, bringing his hand out so Jack can see the small tart he has wrapped in a napkin. “A little taste of Quebec Christmas in July.”

“Tourtière?” Jack is incredulous as he unfolds the napkin, revealing the delectable scents of seasoned pork and flaky pastry. “Bits, how many different things did you make? This must have taken you all day, probably yesterday too. No wonder you seemed so tired.”

“Well I had to include some protein,” Bitty blushes. “But honey, you know me and my stress baking. Honestly it was probably good I had something to keep me busy, I’d have been so antsy just waiting around all day for you to arrive. Are you gonna humor me and give it a try?”

Jack’s mouth is open to take a big bite when he remembers what has happened with all of Bitty’s other Canadian delicacies today. He’s not sure what is going on, but he’s pretty sure it goes beyond the pining and sexual frustration that comes with missing Bitty. He casts a glance around, and while they are the only ones standing under the tree there are plenty of others still milling around with a clear sightline of Jack. Is a meat pie going to be the thing that makes him come in his pants in front of all these people?

Jack lowers the pie and turns his eyes to Bitty, taking a step closer to ask just what the hell is going on, but changes his mind when he sees Bitty’s hopeful expression crumble. He changes course and shoves the pie in his mouth, taking as big of a bite as he can manage, and is rewarded by the corners of Bitty’s mouth turning up as the taste of buttery pastry hits his tongue and he begins chewing.

_Only to find his mouth filled with the taste of Bitty’s tight, hot, pink hole and freshly-waxed ass. Bitty had decided to make their anniversary special last year and given waxing a try, but his poor flesh ended up being so tender he could barely sit. After Bitty had yelped at the ice pack Jack proffered, he decided to try a different tactic, offering to kiss it better. Jack spends several minutes laving his tongue over the sensitive pink flesh until Bitty’s over dramatic groans of pain shift over to moans of pleasure. That’s all the encouragement Jack needs, and he slowly begins pushing at Bitty’s entrance with his tongue, taking himself in hand to give a few slow, languid strokes as he works Bitty’s tight muscle open. He casts a glance up at Bitty to make sure he is doing OK, and sees that the younger man’s hands have drifted down to his own cock, pulling and teasing himself until he’s fully hard. Jack’s fucking Bitty with his tongue now, and from Bitty’s panting Jack knows he is close. He trails his tongue up Bitty’s perineum to mouth at his balls, which earns a groan of protest from Bitty, but it quickly turns into a hissed “yes” as Jack’s mouth moves up to take in Bitty’s cock. Jack abandons his own throbbing cock in favor of getting two fingers inside Bitty, anchoring his other arm along Bitty’s side. It leaves Jack rutting against the mattress like a teenager, but he doesn’t care. Bitty is so, so close and he’s started the keening whine that let’s Jack know he is right on the edge. Jack opens his jaw and takes Bitty deeper into his throat, and Bitty is chanting his name, a constant “Jack, Jack, oh God, Jack …”_

“Jack.”

That last gasp was _not_ a memory, and Jack opens his eyes to find that he has crowded into Bitty’s space, backing the smaller man up against the trunk of the tree. Bitty is breathing hard and staring up at Jack, eyes blown wide. Jack is breathing hard too, eyes locked with his fiancé. His cock is straining in his shorts and he’s aching to haul Bitty over his shoulder and carry him off to Bitty’s — now _their_ — room and recreate that fantastic memory, but he’s got just enough blood left in his brain to remember they are at a party with all of his future in laws.

“Bits, what … did you feel …” Jack can’t form a complete sentence, relying instead on Bitty understanding the few syllables he manages to choke out.

“Yes,” Bitty barely breaths, “Oh honey, I …”

“There you two are! Folks are starting to drift home,” says Suzanne in a bright voice, causing Bitty and Jack to spring apart. “I was thinking we should break out the desserts and start wrapping up, but everyone wants to see the guest of honor one more time.”

“Right. Sure, we can … Yeah.” Jack still isn’t making much sense, but luckily Suzanne doesn’t seem to notice. Jack’s never been so thankful to have people think of him as socially awkward. Bitty’s hand slips into his as they head back toward the light of the house and the group gathered there. Jack slips his other hand into his pocket and tries to subtly adjust his lingering erection so his shorts aren’t tented for everyone to see, and when turns to look at Bitty sees that he is walking with a strange little shimmy that Jack strongly suspects is trying to accomplish the same endeavor. It would be funny if it wasn’t so mortifying.

“I don’t know why everyone is in such a rush to head home tonight,” Suzanne prattles on ahead of them, though Jack is starting to have a sneaking suspicion about why everyone might be fleeing early. “Maybe because it’s a weeknight and they’ve got their own preparations for the Fourth? Anyway, I figured with Jack traveling all day you two wouldn’t mind calling it an early night anyway.”

“Sure, Mama,” as Bitty rubs his thumb up Jack’s wrist, sending a shiver up the Canadian’s spine despite the pressing mugginess of the night. “We can even send plates home with folks if we need to.”

Jack, as man of the hour, gets pulled into conversation with several Bittle and Phelps relatives while Bitty and Suzanne go inside to break out the desserts. Tyler and his family come over to say their goodbyes before heading out, sleeping Genevieve on her daddy’s shoulder, and Coach and a few others urge them into an impromptu rendition of “O, Canada.”

“... we stand on guard … for … thee,” Jack sings out, catching Bitty’s eye and smiling as he comes out of the kitchen carrying a large platter of tartlets. He begins to pass them around, but Jack is busy exchanging phone numbers with Tyler and setting up a time to go golfing with Coach later in the week.

“Connie, I can’t put my finger on it, but somethin’ about this little pie makes me think of that fancy lotion you put on at night,” Jack overhears Uncle Alan say as he wanders over to the table.

“Has this heat gotten to your head? What on earth are you talkin’ about?”

“I dunno, it just sort of … made me think of you? At night time, I guess? Let’s head home,” Alan says, reaching in and giving Connie a sloppy kiss, much to her chagrin. She bats him away with her hand but calls out a farewell to everyone as Alan catches her hand and starts dragging her — though she’s going willingly — to the car.

Jack’s eyes turn to the huge pile of maple tarts. They’re normally a favorite, but tonight just the thought of eating one surrounded by so many people makes him feel a little sick. But his fiancé is beaming at him and holding out the plate, and everyone is raving about the tarts, and Jack can’t let Bitty down. He takes one — his large hand making it appear even smaller — and with a deep breath to prepare himself, takes a small bite …

_And is rewarded with the taste of his own syrup-sticky fingers in his mouth, as he tries his best to make pornographic sounds while stifling his laughter. He’s seated at the breakfast bar in their Providence kitchen, and Bitty has just chirped him about wishing Jack were half as passionate about his boyfriend as he is about the maple syrup-soaked pancakes he made for breakfast. Jack had dragged two fingers through the syrup on the plate before dragging them to his mouth to suck at them seductively, but the annoyed look on Bitty’s face had been too much and he’d ended up choking with laughter as he tried to imitate the groans from the bad porno he found on Bitty’s laptop the week before …_

“This is great, Bits!” Jack says, back in Madison after successfully completing his first bite without mishap. He was so worried about what reaction the tart would bring about, but that was completely manageable. He takes a larger bite, fully intending to enjoy his dessert. Not that he didn’t enjoy dinner, just … not in the way he was expecting ...

_Bitty’s come over to crowd his personal space, smacking him gently on the arm with the spatula._

_“Oh really, Mr. Zimmermann?” he says archly, dragging his own fingers through the stickiness and raising them to his mouth. “Mmmm, you’re right, this is good … so good.” His voice has dropped, breathy as his fingers linger on his lower lip, pulling it down just slightly to show his teeth. His tongue darts out to flick at his now-clean fingers and Jack … should not have tried to take on Eric Richard Bittle when it comes to his pornographic acting skills. The mood has shifted now, ready to light like Bittle’s Viking gas range right when it clicks on before the pilot light ignites the flame. Jack is staring at Bitty and can feel that his mouth is open and that the air is too thick to breathe, when Bitty bends over and swipes at the plate again, wetting two fingers with syrup and raising them to Jack’s neck, where he draws a long stripe of syrup just above his boyfriend’s collar bone. Jack’s still trying to process what is happening when Bitty leans in and that quick, clever tongue is licking and nipping at his neck, causing Jack to gasp. Once it’s clean, Bitty pulls away and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. Jack, still a bit dazed, turns back to the plate and fills his own fingers with syrup, pulling Bittle close by reaching around with his other hand and firmly cupping that pert little ass before using his fingers to draw syrupy circles around Bitty’s exposed nipple. Jack’s sticky hand travels down to Bitty’s waist to pull him even closer as his mouth reaches out to close around the hard, erect nub. Jack begins to suck and nip, tasting the maple of the syrup along with the sweet sweat, vanilla and musk that make up the taste of Bitty. His hands are roaming all over Bitty’s body now, careless of where they spread the stickiness of the syrup, and Jack is hard in his gym shorts and can feel more stickiness — that of precum — leaking from his heavy cock as Bitty squirms under Jack’s mouth and begins making the little gasping sounds Jack loves so much. Suddenly, the smell of syrup is overwhelmed by that of burning, and Bitty squeaks and pulls away, turning toward the large cast-iron frying pan on the stove where the next batch of pancakes have been left to burn. Jack uses his long strides and strong arms to clear Bitty out of the way, clicking off the stove and throwing the whole mess into the sink and soaking it with water._

_“Jack, that’s my best skillet!” Bitty moans._

_“I’ll buy you a new one,” Jack says, scooping up the smaller man in a fireman’s carry and taking a few quick strides to the couch, where he deposits Bitty and proceeds to try to lick off all the syrup that has been spread around as Bitty starts to writhe and moan underneath him. Jack’s tongue wanders down to the waistband of Bitty’s shorts, joined by his fingers, and he begins to inch them down …_

“Sounds great, we’ll be in touch, right Jack?” He’s pulled back into the present by Coach slapping his back. He appears to be talking about tee times with Tyler. “I’ll have to see what Suzanne and Junior have planned, but I think Thursday should work for us.”

“Golf. Right. Yeah, sounds great.”

Jack manages to absently wave goodbye to Tyler and his family, and mumbles farewells to the other relatives and friends who are all starting to make their way home. But his focus is all on Bitty, who is flitting around the tables tidying up and smiling goodbyes to everyone. Jack’s body may be present in post-game-interview-hockey-robot-mode, but his mind is back to this afternoon in Coach’s truck, wishing they had thrown caution to the wind and fucked right there in the short-term parking lot.

And that’s a different feeling, for Jack. He’s had his fair share of purely physical fucking, sure — mostly with Parse. But with Bitty, Jack has always thought of their sexual relationship as “making love.” He knows that makes him sound like a sentimental sap, but it’s true. With Bitty, it’s about more than just getting off. There’s love and trust, respect and fun, passion and comfort, and combined it all creates something deeper and more meaningful for Jack than sex with any other partner. Sure, there’s the occasional time when Jack just needs a post-game release, or when Bitty feels the strange combination of horny, possessive and bossy that makes him fuck Jack into the mattress, but generally Jack is more focused on their emotional connection and meeting those needs, rather than the physical. Even when Bitty’s got him tied up and blindfolded, or he’s holding Bitty up and pounding into him in the shower, there is still so much care and tenderness, so much _love_ mixed in with the lust.

Which is what is making tonight so hard ( _haha, hard_ he manages to laugh at himself). He’s in desperate need of the love, comfort and solace that he’s missed so much in being absent from his fiancé — and he also just wants to pull Bitty’s damn short-shorts to his ankles, pick him up by his tiny, perfect ass and fuck him up against the side of the house until they are an incoherent, shuddering mess of limbs.

Jack finds himself back at the table, allowing Bitty and Suzanne to load his long arms up with platters of leftovers to be carried back in the kitchen. They make their way back inside, quiet settling on the house as the last car drives away, leaving just the four of them.

“Well, I think that went off pretty darn well, dontcha think?” Coach says, sitting down at the kitchen table with a sigh. “Jack, how’d we do?”

“It was wonderful,” Jack says, blushing as he sets the food down on the counter. “You all really outdid yourselves. Bits, I just … I can’t thank you enough, mon coeur.”

Bitty puts down the stack of plates he’s carried in and comes over to wrap himself around Jack. 

“Oh honey, of course! I’m just so glad you were surprised. I thought for sure my face would give it away.”

“I had no idea, Bits. Thanks, really … and to you as well, Coach, Suzanne. Thanks for the, erm, ‘Jack is socially awkward’ plan.”

They all chuckle as Suzanne comes over to wrap her arms around them both. “Of course Jack, sweetheart. We were happy to do it. I’d never really stopped to realize that you were giving up so much coming down here every year for the 4th. I’m glad we could do something for you this time.”

“She’s right,” Coach says from his place at the table, where he is looking at all of them fondly. “Maybe we’ve spent enough summer holidays here at home. Maybe we should plan to be a little farther north on July 1 next year? Say Montreal?”

“Oh honey! Would you?”

“Sure Suz, if it’s alright with Jack? Bob and I were texting — Jack, you forgot to tell your mom and dad you got here OK — and he invited us up next summer. Said they’d show us how it’s done. Boys, think you could find some time to join us?”

Jack, arms still around Bitty, looks down at the smaller man, who nods, beaming. “I think I’ll be free, though I can’t promise it will top this. I mean, we do have the cannon, and hockey, and a HUGE Canada Day Cake, but it pales in comparison to what Bits has done here.”

“Aw, thank you honey. And I’m sure the cake is just as lovely as a mass-produced pile of sugar and shortening can be.”

Jack’s laughing now, pulling Bitty in closer to press kisses to his temple. “We’ll just have to taste it and see. And you can do maple apple pie or Nanaimo bars or something REALLY good for us at home, eh?”

At that Bitty jumps and smacks a hand to his forehead. “Nanaimo bars! Jack, I made Nanaimo bars and I was so, well, uh, distracted when I came in to get the dessert that I only put out the tarts! Mama, where’d those end up?”

Suzanne is already out the other door that leads to the garage, grabbing them out of the spare refrigerator. 

“I don’t know that I’ve had these before?” she says, coming in with a giant jelly-roll pan full of bars. Clearly, Bitty made enough to feed the entire party. “Jack, are these from Quebec?”

“Uh, no, they are actually from B.C.? British Columbia? But they are popular everywhere. I really like them, so Bits sometimes makes them for me if I’m not trying to bulk up on muscle ...” Jack realizes he is babbling, but he’s getting  _ very _ nervous that he is going to have to eat one of Bitty’s creations in front of his future in laws, and based on the night’s events, that seems like a spectacularly bad idea. 

But here’s Bitty, magically right back in front of him with a bar on a napkin, holding it up gleefully so he can  _ feed Jack a bite  _ and how is Jack supposed to get out of this without being painfully awkward? 

He can’t. Especially with Bitty standing right there, gazing up at him with so much love and excitement shining out of his big brown eyes. So, closing his eyes and screwing up every ounce of determination he has within him — which, he  _ is _ Jack Zimmermann, he’s kind of famous for that, right? — he opens his mouth and lets Bitty lift the bar towards him. His tongue brushes the bottom crust …

_ And his senses are flooded with the smell of coconut as he trails kisses up Bitty’s inner thigh, stopping to suck and nibble as Bitty’s legs fall slowly open. It’s their second 4th of July in Madison, and they’d spent the day at a nearby lake where Bitty had slathered on the sunscreen that is now filling Jack’s nostrils, it’s coconut scent making Bitty smell like pina coladas and Hawaiian vacations. Jack wants to take Bitty there someday, he thinks as his face comes around to nose at Bitty’s balls and lick his perineum, earning Jack a squirm. Because then they might be able to be alone, and Jack wouldn’t have to be sneaking across the hall of his boyfriend’s childhood home so he could blow said boyfriend — who is literally biting down on Jack’s wadded up T-shirt to keep himself from making noise — without Coach and Suzanne hearing and walking in on them and banishing Jack back to the guest room. Jack pulls away for a moment and shakes his head to banish Bitty’s parents from his mind, causing Bitty to sit up and pull the shirt from his mouth to see what is wrong. His timing is just off, as Jack picks that moment to go for the gold, open wide and deep throat Bitty’s bobbing cock. Jack freezes at the high-pitched squeal that escapes from Bitty, both listening intently for sounds of stirring down the hall, before Bitty’s hand is tapping him on the shoulder to let him know the T-shirt is back in place. Jack sets to work, curving the edges of his tongue to hug Bitty’s dick as he licks slowly up to the head, then swirling around the slit to catch a salty drop of precum. He reaches one hand up to still his boyfriend’s twitching thighs, the other wrapping around the base of Bitty’s cock as he focuses on the head, bobbing in and out and working his tongue around in the strong, rhythmic strokes that he knows bring Bitty right to the edge … _

“Jack, honey, are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna take a bite?”

Jack snaps back to the kitchen, eyes flying open, mouth hanging like a fish with Nanaimo bar still resting on his tongue. He’s already this far, he figures, might as well go all the way, and sinks his teeth into the layers of coconut, custard and chocolate …

_ And Bitty is coming like a fountain in Jack’s mouth, frantically tapping his shoulder to signal to him to pull off. But Jack dives in, bobbing his head and curling his tongue to work Bitty through his orgasm, choking a bit on the salty cum and Bitty’s shuddering cock, swallowing down every bit he can, relishing the taste of Bitty and the way his boyfriend is wriggling under him as Jack ruts into the sheets, seeking friction for himself … _

“Holy shit!” 

Jack’s yanked back again, this time by Coach swearing loudly.

“Eric Richard Bittle! Language like that might fly on the football field but I will  _ not _ have it in my kitchen,” Suzanne is standing over Coach with her hands on her hips as he blushes meekly, holding out his Nanaimo bar.

“I’m sorry Suzy, I know you don’t hold with cursin’. It’s just, these bars are … well, they are somethin’ else. You, uh, really outdid yourself there Junior. Honey, try a bite.”

Suzanne is still giving Coach a dirty glare, but she reaches down and takes the bar — and napkin it’s wrapped in — and takes a bite. The tense silence of the kitchen is broken only by her quiet chewing, until she staggers and sits down — suddenly and hard — on another kitchen chair.

“Oh. Oh my. I’m not sure why but this reminds me of our anniversary …”

“... in Savannah? In that little B&B you wanted to try?” Coach finishes for her as their eyes meet and she nods. “Me too, baby.”

There’s something going on that Jack can’t quite put his finger on, and judging from the confused look Bitty is giving his parents, he’s not sure either. Though Jack is pretty sure his entire blood supply is still in his dick, and the porn-quality moans Suzanne is making as she takes a second bite — it’s his  _ future mother in law, Crisse, _ this should  _ not be a turn on _ — aren’t helping. 

Coach is finally the one to break the tension, hopping up from his chair and pulling Suzanne to him, putting his arm around her waist and heading for the door that leads back out into the yard. 

“You know, it’s such a nice night, how’s about we take a little walk, hey sweetheart?” Suzanne is glued to his side, gazing up at him. “You boys go on and relax for a bit, we’ll take care of this mess when we get back. Just a nice night for a stroll, not goin’ anywhere particular, you don’t bother to wait up, not sure when we’ll be back …” 

He’s still talking as they make their way out the door. Bitty crosses the kitchen — he’s still the fastest thing on two legs Jack has ever seen — to lock it behind them. He clicks the deadbolt into place and then turns, pushing himself back against the door and locking eyes with Jack.


	6. Electrical Storm

Once, when Jack was a young teen, he got caught out in an electrical storm on the golf course with his father. He can still remember the smell of ozone and the way every hair on his arm seemed to stand straight up of its own volition right before lightening cracked down, striking the tree a few metres away. The Bittle kitchen may smell of baking and cookout, but Jack would swear the electricity in the air is the same. He’s paralysed with it, wanting so badly to reach out and touch Bitty, but knowing that if he starts now he won’t be able to stop.

“Did you have a good Canada Day, sweetheart?” he hears Bitty ask, voice low and quiet, with an intensity that’s usually absent anywhere but on the ice or in the bedroom.

“Ye … Yeah,” he manages to stammer with a gulp. It suddenly feels like there is not enough air in the room.

“Mmmm, good. And you liked the food alright?” Bitty takes a few steps closer and Jack realizes that the smaller man is palming himself through his shorts. Jack’s mouth goes dry, and he’s frozen, unable to answer. 

“Jack, honey?”

“Biiits …” he manages to groan. He can feel his cock creating a painful tent in his shorts. It’s been aching for so long now that he’s worried he’ll come in his boxers if Bitty moves any closer.

“What is it, Jack? You need something?” Bitty says, voice still low but feigning innocence, crowding into Jack’s personal space but carefully avoiding touching him.

“Just … want you. To be with you.”

“Aw, me too sweetheart,” says Bitty, stepping back and stripping off his shirt as he steps back, moving toward the kitchen table, his bare feet padding on the floor. “Why don’t you come on over here and show me how much you’ve missed me.”

“Shouldn’t we … upstairs …” Jack is still unable to speak coherently.

“No, baby. I want you to drop your pants and come right over here, bend me over the table and fuck me so hard I’ll forget all about how I’ve missed you.”

Jack’s pretty sure his jaw is actually on the floor at this point, and he starts to pull his shirt off, moving to take Bitty up in his arms, but does an abrupt shift in the direction of the stairs. 

“Bits, we don’t … I’ll just … lube.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann if you don’t get your big hockey butt over here right this second and fuck me into oblivion I am never baking for you again. I already took care of it.” Bitty manages to pivot, drop his shorts and step out of them, and lean up against the table to present his pert, perfect ass in one fluid motion, showing off the butt plug. 

Jack’s not sure how, but he manages to cross the kitchen in two large steps, completely shedding his clothes as he goes, and in a blink he’s there, hands cupping Bitty’s hips and pulling him close while planting hot, wet kisses on his neck.

“Oh, God, yes,” Bitty moans, arching up to meet him. The plug brushes up against Jack’s bobbing cock and he almost comes right there, leaping like he’s been shocked by a spark, before coming close again and taking a firm grip and drawing out the plug. The accompanying groan from Bitty is obscene, and Jack tosses the plug aside carelessly in favor of lining himself up to press — as gently as he can in this state — at Bitty’s entrance. 

“Jaaaack…” Bitty whines, urging him on. But the lube is getting tacky and even though Jack’s desperate to get inside he’s worried about injuring Bitty.

“Just fucking DO IT, Jack,” Bitty’s hockey team captain voice snaps back while his hand reaches around and smacks Jack soundly on the cheek of his ass. And Bossy Bitty, combined with his stinging butt cheek and the force rocking him forward are all Jack needs because  _ Crisse, _ that is hot.

Jack feeds himself into Bitty, feeling his fiance open up and relax around him to accommodate his already weeping cock as he bottoms out, earning a gasp from Bitty. He stills for a moment, breathing in the hot, humid air, trying to calm himself so he doesn’t come just from this. But then Bitty’s hips are thrusting back to meet him in demand, mumbling something that sounds like “get moving” and he can’t hold himself back any longer.

Jack begins moving, trying to get as deep as he can on each thrust, pegging Bitty’s prostate and making him whine. Jack knows that after spending all evening thinking about this very thing, he won’t last long. He moves his hands from Bitty’s hips, curling one around to stroke the scattering of soft blond chest hair while the other grabs one of Bitty’s outstretched hands from where it is grasping for purchase on the tabletop, lacing their fingers together. He presses messy kisses up Bitty’s spine to his neck as he hammers into him, again and again.

Time seems to still as Jack settles into a rhythm, fast and hard, and maybe it’s whatever was in the food but all of his senses are being overwhelmed by the moment. The heavy, suppressive quiet of the night is broken by the wet slap of Jack slamming into Bitty, along with Bitty’s perfect little pants, whines and moans that tell Jack he is getting close. His nose is full of the smell of sex mixed with Bitty’s sweet natural scent, as his tongue traces behind Bitty’s ear and down the back of his neck, picking up the salty taste of sweat. His eyes are closed, fireworks of color bursting behind his lids every time he thrusts.

The feel of skin on skin is incredible, and Jack tries to spread himself even closer, curling his broad chest around Bitty’s back so they have as many points of contact as possible. His thighs begin to burn from squatting to reach up inside his shorter fiance, and he realizes that Bitty’s feet are coming up off the kitchen floor with every thrust when he feels toes brush his ankle. Bitty’s close now, panting and keening Jack’s name, and Jack picks up the rhythm and tries to thrust even deeper into the hot, tight wetness of Bitty’s hole. His hand moves down from playing with Bitty’s nipples to grasp his bobbing cock and Jack begins stroking in time with his thrusts, running his thumb over Bitty’s slit when he drags upward. Bitty arches into his hand, seeking more friction and thrusting into Jack’s fist. It only takes a few strokes before Bitty is coming, sobbing Jack’s name and shooting stripes of white up onto his chest and the table, coating Jack’s hand and clenching down on Jack’s cock, grinding his ass back into Jack’s hip bones and Jack is  _ gone _ . He comes with a roar, getting in a few final thrusts before collapsing onto Bitty, who is already lying — spent and spread out — on the table. 

They lie there for a moment, sweat mingling as they try to catch their breath, before Jack realizes he must be crushing Bitty and pulls back, dropping kisses and rubbing his hand down Bitty’s back as he pulls himself to standing, his softening cock still inside.

“Bits, are you OK?,” he says with growing concern as Bitty just lies there unresponsive.

“Lord, yes.” Bitty manages to groan, attempting to push himself up a bit on the table. “It was just … so much, know what I mean? Overwhelming.”

“I know,” Jack says softly, pressing a soft kiss to Bitty’s shoulder and gathering him up in his arms as he pulls out, both of them groaning slightly at the loss. He pulls them over into the breakfast nook’s window seat, relaxing back into the cheery curtains and pulling Bitty to sit between his legs, letting the younger man’s head fall back onto his chest as they relax and bask in the afterglow, content to finally be alone together after so long apart. Jack ducks his head every so often to plant gentle kisses in Bitty’s hair, on his neck, on his shoulder, letting the warm silence wash over him as his mind replays the evening’s events.

His sex-sated brain is mostly focused on the last few minutes, but as his mind drifts farther back across the evening the lingering question of  _ what the hell has been going on all night _ starts to resurface. Bitty is starting to drift — he always gets a little drowsy and fuzzy around the edges after he’s been fucked — and Jack realizes they better get moving before Coach and Suzanne come through the door and disturb their post-orgasm bliss.

“Bits?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you put … something … in the food tonight?” 

Bitty stirs and turns a bit to snuggle into Jack. “You mean besides all my love and longing for my beloved fiancé? No, I didn’t. But it sure seemed like there was something going on, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jack says, blushing as he thinks back to the way he’d reacted to each bite. “It was just … flooding me with all these memories. Of other times we’ve made love.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m just gonna chalk it up to the power of Celine Dion.,” Bitty sighs, turning to kiss Jack softly on the lips and cupping his face with his hand, where he notices the gold glint of MooMaw’s ring with a start. “Oh, I was wearing this. It is supposed to be a good luck charm. And, now Jack, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I swear I felt a little spark or somethin’ when I put it on this morning.”

“That … doesn’t sound any crazier than anything else that happened tonight,” Jack concedes. “Maybe time to take it off, eh? I’m not sure I can handle getting any luckier tonight.”

“You just have to turn everything into a chirp, don’t you?” Bitty says with a smile, pulling Jack to stand beside him, “Come on lover, I know Mama is OK with us doing ‘adult’ things in her house, but I don’t think getting lucky on the kitchen table was what she had in mind. Let’s clean up.”

“You go on up, Bits, you must be exhausted. Grab a shower and I’ll clean up down here and then come join you in bed.”

“Mmmm, can’t wait. Don’t be too long now,” Bitty says, slipping off the ring and placing it in a saucer on the kitchen windowsill.

“I won’t. Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”


	7. You And No Other

Bitty sleepily makes his way up the stairs and Jack soon hears the shower water running. He grabs some paper towels and wets them in the kitchen sink to wipe himself off before throwing his clothes back on and facing the chaos that is the kitchen. First to remove the evidence of what transpired in the kitchen tonight. Jack wipes down the table with antibacterial kitchen wipes he finds under the sink, and tries to get the wet spot out of the window seat. He only succeeds in making it bigger, so he flips the cushion over and makes a mental note to sneak it into the laundry tomorrow.

Next, there are lots of leftovers to put away (it is a Bittle function, after all), but not as many as he would have expected. Jack smiles to himself as he begins placing tarts in Tupperware. He doesn’t blame everyone for being willing to take a little extra food home if they were having the same experience he did. In fact, it makes perfect sense to enjoy it in the comfort of your own home, away from anyone else with the possible exception of your significant other, he thinks ruefully as he shifts to transferring the huge pile of uneaten burgers to Ziploc bags. 

He continues to pack up food and put dishes in the dishwasher, hoping to at least get the food put away before dragging himself up to bed and Bitty. Sliding into cool sheets alongside his warm, soft and freshly-showered fiance beckons, and he’s just about to throw in the towel and leave the dishes for morning when he hears rattling and scraping sounds at the back door. He peeks out into the darkness and sees his in-laws, fumbling in their pockets in search of keys. Bitty must not have realized he was locking them out when he shut the door behind them so hurriedly, but Jack’s happy to let them in.

“Ah, Jack, thank you. Didn’t realize we’d headed out without the keys,” says Coach, coming in holding Suzanne’s hand. “Glad you were still up, wouldn’t have blamed you boys for hitting the sack.”

“Oh, no problem. I sent Bits up to shower and go to bed already, he seemed pretty spent,” Jack says, realizing the double entendre of his words as he sees the butt plug still sitting where he’d flung it on the counter. He moves — subtly, he hopes — over that direction and discreetly sneaks it into the pocket of his shorts. Luckily Coach and Suzanne seem to have eyes only for one another, moving around the kitchen in perfect sync the same way he and Bitty do as they continue the clean up. Suzanne finally notices Jack again as he crosses the room and adds more plates to the dishwasher.

“Oh Jack, you sweet boy, you go on up and get to bed. You’ve done most of the work already,” Suzanne says with a fond smile. “Rich and I can finish this up, and I’m sure you’re tuckered out from your flight.”

“Uh, if you’re sure? That would be great. I’ll probably hit the shower and then crash, if that’s OK?” Jack says, glancing at them both and feeling his awkwardness return. “Thank you, again, for … well, just … all of this. It was really great. I’m really, well, just thankful? To be, um, part of this family?”

“Oh sweetheart, you have  _ always _ been part of this family, from your very first visit,” says Suzanne, moving to hug Jack while Coach looks on fondly. “We love you so much and are so, so happy that you and Dicky have decided to make it official.”

“Erm, thanks. I … I love you guys, too,” Jack says, getting misty again. For a hockey robot he’s been strangely tearful tonight, he thinks, raising his hand to brush away a tear and accidentally brushing up against Suzanne’s hair where he finds something caught there. “Oh, uh, you have, um, it looks like maybe you have some grass in your hair?”

Coach and Suzanne turn to look at each other in panic, both blushing uncontrollably, and Jack — belatedly catching on — is really, really wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“It must have happened out on your walk. Uh, I mean, uh, you must have maybe … um …” Jack struggles, cursing himself internally for opening his big mouth.

“Oh, well we did walk down by the creek and uh, lay down for a bit to ah, um …” Suzanne is clearly struggling to cover the awkwardness as well. 

“To watch the stars!” Coach hurriedly jumps in. 

“Yes, watch the stars, it was just such a nice night and much cooler down by the creek so we …”

“Ya’ll are sure noisy,” says MooMaw, walking into the kitchen and stretching from her nap. “Is the party over?”

“Mama! I didn’t realize you were still here,” Coach says, moving over to his mother. “I thought you went home with Charlene.”

“Nope, just had a little cat nap on the sofa. Is there any food left? I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

“Of course MooMaw,” Suzanne says. “Why don’t I fix you up a plate and then you can stay here in the guest room tonight? Rich or the boys can drive you home tomorrow, that alright?” she asks, pulling the container of smoked meat out of the fridge. 

“NOT THAT STUFF!,” Coach shrieks, diving around Jack to stop Suzanne. “Uh, I mean, no one ate my burgers Mama, how about we get you one of those?”

“Oh yes, a burger will be just the thing MooMaw, let me heat that up for you. How about some chips while you wait? Oh, and did I tell you Dicky found your missing posey ring this morning? It was on Callie’s bouquet …”

Jack smothers a laugh as he bids them a final goodnight and heads upstairs, leaving Coach and Suzanne chatting with MooMaw in the kitchen. He spares a brief thought to hope MooMaw is a heavy sleeper as he pulls the butt plug out of his pocket and washes it in the bathroom sink, wrapping it in a washcloth to keep it clean. He notices with fondness that Bitty has moved his toiletry bag into the bathroom for him so he can brush his teeth. He showers quickly, towels off and wraps the towel around his waist to sneak across the hall — making sure to grab the plug this time, along with his clothes — and quietly eases open the door to Bitty’s room.

Bitty is already asleep, sprawled on his back emitting the soft little snores that always come when he drinks beer. Jack tries to sneak in quietly, moving around the room to strip down and put the toy away before opening his suitcase to rummage around for some clean boxers to sleep in. The noise of the zipper wakes Bitty, who rolls over and props himself up on an elbow to see Jack.

“Hey handsome, you comin’ to bed?” he says, his accent thick with sleep, looking soft and sleep-tousled and so, so inviting. Jack’s heart clenches with the overwhelming love he feels for this man who has agreed to be his forever.

“Oui, mon coeur. Just need to plug in my phone and I’ll be right there.”

“Mmm, waitin’ for ya. Been waitin’ all day. Missed you.” 

Jack makes a noise of assent as he moves over to where he dropped his pants, grabbing his phone and puzzling again over the events of the evening. He’s about to ask Bitty about it as he moves to the bed to plug in his phone on the night stand when he notices a text message notification. 

“Huh, that’s funny. I have a text from Johnson.”

“John Johnson? The goalie? Lord, I haven’t heard from him in forever. What’s he got to say?” 

Jack scans the text. Johnson has always been a little odd, and this text is no different. It makes absolutely no sense to Jack.

“He says that I just need to accept magical realism as a plot device to drive the narrative and stop worrying about it. Does that make any sense to you?” he asks, moving to slide under the sheets and pull Bitty close.

“Lord no. But I never did understand half of what Johnson was sayin’ anyway,” Bitty says, nestling into Jack’s chest in his favorite spot. “Mmmm, missed this. Missed you so much, honey.”

“Me too Bits. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

They settle quietly, content to breath one another’s air and begin to drift off to sleep. But Jack is jostled to wakefulness by Bitty sitting up abruptly.

“Jack — were there leftovers?”

“Yeah Bits, there were.”

“DID YOU SAVE THEM?”

“Yeah, I mean … is that OK?”

“Oh honey, it is  _ more _ than OK. I’m gonna pack up a big basket and take you to that swimming hole we visited a few summers back and we are gonna have ourselves a little picnic.”

And that sounds … pretty damn fantastic, to Jack’s mind. He has some  _ very _ fond memories of that swimming hole, tucked back in a grove of trees away from prying eyes, and it sounds like he’ll be making more, if Bitty has anything to do with it.

“Sounds wonderful, mon coeur. You know there’s noone I’d rather, uh, eat leftovers with, eh?” he says, knowing Bitty can imagine his eyebrows waggling even in the dark.

“You have a dirty mind, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty says, giving him a gentle swat on the chest before settling in. “But yes, there will be ‘leftovers’ if that’s the euphemism you want to use.”

“Do you think we need the ring, Bits? For it to uh, work, I mean?”

“Honey, I have missed you so much I don’t need a good luck charm to blow your mind. The things I’m gonna do to you …” he nestles back into Jack’s chest to drift off. “Mmmm. You won’t need to rely on old memories, you’ll have  _ plenty _ of new ones.”

“I can’t wait, Bits,” Jack says, pressing soft kisses to Bitty’s hair as they begin to drift off. “I want all of my memories to be with you. Vous et nul autre.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your feedback. Come chat about Zimbits and all other things Check, Please! on my [Tumblr](http://leftwinglibrarian.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> The ring Bitty finds is like [this one](http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O121716/ring-unknown/) found at the Victoria & Albert Museum. Rings like this were popular lover's gifts from the 15th to the 17th centuries. This ring has been in Bitty's family for a very long time!
> 
> Music links:  
> [Crazy In Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViwtNLUqkMY) by Beyoncé  
> [Hotline Bling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxpDa-c-4Mc) by Drake  
> [Boyfriend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GuqB1BQVr4) by Justin Bieber  
> [Haven't Met You Yet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA) by Michael Bublé  
> [Bootylicious](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyYnnUcgeMc) by Destiny's Child (this is Bitty's ringtone for Jack because he A) has a giant hockey butt and B) is a serial butt dialer)  
> [Any Man Of Mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N2k-gv6xNE) by Shania Twain  
> [My Heart Will Go On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHG2oizTlpY&list=RDFHG2oizTlpY) by Celine Dion
> 
> Food:  
> [Fruit Salad](http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/pretty-fruit-salad/)  
> [Tourtière](http://www.pbs.org/food/kitchen-vignettes/classic-french-canadian-tourtiere/)  
> [Montreal Smoked Meat](http://figtreeandvine.com/blogs/recipes/117581828-shwartzs-famous-montreal-smoked-meat-sandwich)  
> [Maple Syrup Pie](http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/maple-syrup-pie-102529)  
> [Nanaimo Bars](http://www.nanaimo.ca/EN/main/visitors/NanaimoBars.html)  
> [Poutine](http://www.halfbakedharvest.com/authentic-canadian-poutine/)


End file.
